From the Ashes
by mtngirlwrites
Summary: It's been three years since Jon Snow has been exiled beyond the Wall. Three years since he's seen the Mother of Dragons. One day, Drogon brings back an unexpected visitor. Does she have what it takes to face the the new King and Queen of Westeros? Post Season 8.
1. Chapter 1

_Please check reviews for Author's Notes. _

**Chapter I**

Jon woke to screams outside his cabin. Next to him, a Wildling woman stirred beneath the furs and clamped her hands upon her ears. Della, he thought her name was.

"Jon? Jon!" A voice bellowed at the door before marching in.

"What is it?" Jon groggily asked as he sat up, now fully alert. The towering silhouette of Tormund Giantsbane's voice dropped several tones: "There's a dragon here."

* * *

He ventured into the woods with a dozen of his bravest Wildlings trailing at a distance. He had ordered them not to attack and to stay back, but the fear and awe of a live dragon pulled them in all the same.

Jon's heart rammed in his chest. It had been three years since he was exiled to the North. Three years since he had seen a dragon. The Wildlings needed help establishing and rebuilding their villages, to let life return to somewhat normal. Maybe if he saw others get back with their lives, he would too.

The forest was thick with a dreaded silence as Jon followed the Weirwood Path through the trees. A flash of silver-gold hair, intricately weaved, fell apart in his fingertips. Knees against cold stone floors in Winterfell. A dragon's blood curdling fire scream mixed with the terror of thousands of peoples dying breath. One last killer kiss. He shuddered and held his composure. He was not okay and he wasn't sure if he ever would be, but he couldn't let the Wildlings see him cower. He had been with other women, many of them he couldn't remember, but none compared to Daenerys.

Even thinking of her name made Jon convulse. He had done an unspeakable crime, killing the woman he loved, a goddess, in order to save a realm who would never know about him. The North seemed to remember though and repaid him and the Wildlings with the warmest spring they had ever seen on this side of the Wall. He thought maybe it was her, melting down the ice, like she had done to save his life so long ago. In his dreams, they danced in the dark and she thanked him, over and over again, for the Iron Throne; then she would be splayed on top of the cursed thing, swords jutting through her calf, her breast, her neck while Drogon breathed fire to his face. He would always wake up, calling her name, until finally the alcohol was what lulled him to sleep for good.

Jon almost missed the Weirwood Tree as a dark mountain engulfed the clearing. The men behind him gasped and began to run away as the mountain's head moved and expanded his great black wings to scare them off further. Jon stood his ground. The head dipped beneath the tree line and before he knew it, he was face to face with Drogon, the Stallion who Mounts the World. Drogon bared his knife-like teeth and took a tentative sniff at Jon. Jon looked into his red fiery eyes. 'It's been a long time, cousin.' Drogon inhaled sharply, stood back up on his hindquarters, and pounced to the sky, night turning into day again. The red brilliant leaves of the Weirwood Tree shined among the grassy clearing marked by square stones in a spiral pattern. His eyes adjusted again. A cloaked woman was standing by the face of the tree. She took one step forward and her hood fell. That platinum golden hair.

"Daenerys?"

* * *

He could hardly believe it. Jon thought he was dreaming. Hallucinating is all, Tormund was playing a funny trick on him. He carefully walked towards her. She saw him and beamed.

"_Where am I?_" She asked in Valyrian. He shook his head. "Do you speak the Common Tongue?" She asked again.

"Y-yes. Is that really you?" Jon asked, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again.

"Where am I?" Daenerys asked.

"The Lands of Always Winter. North of the Wall. Daenerys, I-"

"North of what wall? I'm not in Essos anymore, am I?"

"Essos... no Dany, you're in Westeros... what are you-?"

"Westeros? How do you know my name?" Daenerys was three feet away now, a dagger peeking out from her waist. She sneered at Jon in distrust. Suddenly, he was very aware of the situation. He cautiously looked left and up to signal to his men: don't move.

"Everyone knows Daenerys Targaryen," he replied evenly. "Everyone knows about the Mother of Dragons."

Her mouth dropped open. She looked around frantically. "I don't!" She cried. "I don't know who I am! I have been a hostage for years! Until a dragon attacked our ship and brought me here. Was that your doing? Who are you?" She was hysterical now.

He had forgotten how volatile she was. How easy it was for her to snap back and forth, from mania to utter despair in mere seconds. This was far too much for her. Guilt rose in his throat. She didn't remember?

"I'm here to help you," he said quietly and she paused her sobbing to listen. "Will you come with me?" Daenerys wiped her tears and strolled towards Jon. Gods, she was still as beautiful if not more since that fateful day. Since he-

As they walked back to the encampment, curious eyes peered at the dragon's delivery. Although her hood covered most of her hair and face, the Wildlings stood in awe at her beauty. Jon led her into one of their log cabins, one where Tormund sat waiting.

"The dragon brings you a woman? Ohh, it's your lucky day," he cheered, bellowing laughter until Daenerys' hood fell and all smiles left his face. "You're supposed to be d-"

"Daenerys, are you hungry? Would you like to sit down here? It's not very warm but it's better than out there," Jon offered, still in shock that she was here, in the North, in the flesh. She nodded and sat down on the furs, reaching her hands toward the hearth. Jon's brow furrowed. By the old gods and the new, what was going on?

He brought her fresh roasted goat, her hands running with its juices as she ate ravenously. Daenerys downed the bread and gulped the ale as Tormund watched, impressed. When she was finished, she wiped her hands on her cloak and gazed at Jon with the same concern from earlier.

"Thank you...?"

"Jon. Jon Snow," he answered.

"Jon Snow," she repeated. "You say you can help me? What is the cost?"

His heart sank. She really was imprisoned. How many exchanges had she had to survive?

"No cost. I only want to offer you shelter. We're all Free Folk up here, we come and go as we please." He was careful with his words, afraid to divulge too much, wondering if this was part of his atonement from the gods.

She sighed in relief and closed her eyes. Before he knew it, she was lightly snoring among the bear skin furs. He glanced up at Tormund.

"What the hell is going on?"

* * *

In her dream, Daenerys suffocates underneath a pile of bodies. She swims through the writhing limbs, some dead and some living, covered in ash and burned skin, the scent so intense, until a man covered by a wolf headdress pulls her out. She feels like her head has been stuck in a bucket of ice water and just when she finally gasps for air, the wolf man attacks her throat. She wakes up in an instant.

Instead of the usual swaying floors of a ship, Daenerys found herself covered in furs, sweating from the fires. It was definitely night time now as the stars glittered from in between the cracks in the ceiling. She rose to find Jon sitting at a nearby table, clutching an empty horn. He saw her stir and began to mumble.

"You're beautiful," he mumbled, before laying his head down and passing out. She blushed in the dark and stepped into the cold to go to the bathroom. When she returned, her body shivered from her lack of clothes for the north and she sank back into the furs, desperate for heat.

Daenerys woke again to the sound of chirping birds. It had been so long since she had heard a birdsong. When was the last time anyway? Jon was no longer at the table which she was thankful for as she had so much to digest. Twenty-four hours ago, she was in bed with Daario on his ship, the Balerion, named after a great dragon of the past. She had a dream she jumped off the mast and instead of crashing into the sea and drowning, she flew away instead. Then she awoke and the black dragon had taken her.

She had been terrified of the beast as he grabbed her with his mighty talons and roared at the ship and its inhabitants. Daario and the Dothraki yelled her name, becoming small dots among the sea as she helplessly flew away in the dragon's claws.

'Please don't eat me,' she thought in exasperation, as his wings cut through the air with ease. The dragon tilted his head and emitted what seemed like a chortle, and for a moment understood what she thought. She closed her eyes and prayed.

The last few years had been confusing as she was taken hostage from city to city, her company seizing and taking what was theirs. A large black flag decorated with three dragon heads connected by a spiral was Balerion's emblem and no town was a match for them. She was guarded, heavily guarded, and wasn't allowed to see or speak to anybody. Her hair was always tightly braided and hidden inside her cloak as they walked through the aftermath. She assumed that she was taken as a prize on one of these rampages and during the scuffle, hit her head pretty damn hard when they took her.

Daenerys grazed her hand along her stomach. A thick ugly scar in the shape of a crescent moon poked through her silk gown. She really needed better clothing.

A woman stopped by later in the morning to give her what she needed. The wool shirts were itchy on her skin but the weight of the wolf fur around her neck gave her warmth. She slipped into black slacks and knee high fur snow boots with crude leather straps. They were not the finest but she was thankful for them anyway.

Jon entered after she was dressed and she was apprehensive of this man. His black curly hair was pulled back into a knot but curls still spilled out around his face. She could see a faint scar trail from his eyebrow to his cheek, then she caught grey eyes boring into her. A massive sword with a wolf pommel sat on his hip yet his gloved leather hands clenched and unclenched, unsure what to say.

"Why was I brought here?" She asked first.

"I dunno. You should ask the dragon," Jon replied. Dany scoffed. What?

"So you didn't send him to me?" Dany said.

"No... I didn't." He wasn't a man of many words yet she felt like she knew him.

"Are you of my past?" She asked. His face turned stoic as his jaw clenched.

"Yes," he finally admitted, looking away from her. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't place him and for all she knew, she was from Essos, taken captive and living a pirate's life. She knew nothing of Jon or the dragon or the North or Westeros even existing up until yesterday. She wanted to cry again.

"Who am I?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes. Daenerys was so exhausted and confused, he could tell. It wasn't everyday a dragon takes you and brings you to a faraway tundra wasteland.

He came closer and sat with her in the furs and sighed. Even closer, Jon was very attractive and she couldn't tell if she wanted to stay or run away from him. It had been a few moments before he finally chalked up his courage and told her: "You are Queen Daenerys of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name. Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

Jon finally told Daenerys, and she was even more distraught.

"Queen? But I am a prisoner. I am of Essos. I have no memory of this land."

He gave her another stony look.

"I-I used to serve you. You were my Queen until... until..." Jon couldn't bring himself to say it. He shook his head. "It doesn't matter now. You're here. You're alive. I'm not sure what the gods are playing at, but they have brought you back to me, Dany." Jon couldn't take it any longer. He jumped up and left the cabin. She opened her mouth to call after him but faltered as he disappeared into the bleak autumn morning.

Queen? Mother of Dragons? Targaryens? This was all new to her. Did Daario steal her from her castle? Was she really that dragon's mother? She needed answers. She decided to follow Jon.

Even though the North seemed to be shifting into a warmer temperature, the air still bit her skin when she went outside. Daenerys ran to pull the tail of Jon's black cloak.

"Jon... please. Tell me what happened to me," she insisted. He stopped abruptly and turned his head slightly but didn't make eye contact.

"I need some time. Please go back and rest," he said, and her face fell. "I'll come back later." And with that he hurried off with a great white wolf following him, leaving Daenerys stunned and feeling more afraid in his wake.

What in the world had she done to Jon Snow?

* * *

As Jon promised, she was free to roam the village as she pleased but the Wildlings spoke in hushed voices and did their best to avoid her. Dany found her cabin again and settled down, thoughts spiraling.

Someone had brought her breakfast, elk sausages, eggs, and bread, but she could hardly bring a morsel to her mouth. If she was queen, where were her people? Why hadn't they looked for her? She supposed it made sense as to why Daario kept her in secret, in disguise, but he never told her more than she needed to know. When she was first taken captive, he, this mercenary stranger, had treated her with the utmost gentleness and care. She begged for her freedom but he would not give it. Dany wasn't afraid of him, and it wasn't fair to call herself his prisoner as she could tell he loved her. But she was not allowed to leave and spoke to no one but him and the Dothraki on board.

How she knew to speak Dothraki, she did not know. But they treated her with the same reverence and protectiveness Daario had shown. She had been around the world with him, or so she thought, hoping that he would eventually set her free and return her to her home, but after one year, she had given up. But no, she had no idea, he hadn't given her a damn clue in the slightest as they traveled to the corners of Essos again and again.

It was near the ruins of Valyria, by the Smoking Sea, when her dream came true. A formidable black shadow covered their ship, lashed his tail at the flag, ripping it in half before it took Daenerys.

If she was queen, did she have a family? Did she have a husband or children or brothers or sisters who had been scouring the seas for her, explaining why Daario was constantly on the move? _How selfish of him_, she thought. _Keeping me away from my family, my world_.

This Jon Snow left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. She felt like his prisoner now too, someone who finally knew who she was, but just as withdrawn as Daario. Anger pricked her skin as she fell into a dreamless slumber.

Jon didn't return until very late, almost midnight. Daenerys had slept on and off again, used to the boredom of waiting a very long time. He roused her as she sleepily opened her eyes to the darkness, the fire freshly stoked and roaring. He smelled of blood, and she could tell he had just returned from hunting. They were close, but not too close, when Jon first spoke.

"What do you want to do from here?" He asked.

"I-I'm not sure. I suppose I want to go home," she said, glancing at him eagerly. He stared at her, long and hard again, before responding.

"There is no more home for you." He hated that he had to break the news to her. How much of the truth he wanted to offer, he didn't know, but she deserved at least some of it. Daenerys sadly nodded in understanding and looked into the fire.

"May I stay here?" She asked. Jon's heart leaped in his chest. He had hoped she would,but was fearful of what was to come. A dragon spotted in the north was sure to bring some visitors any day now. Visitors he had no intention of seeing.

"We are free here. You may do as you like. This village is my home base; everyone contributes one way or another," Jon said. Daenerys smiled and began to chatter.

"I-I could help clean and cook... I was very useful on the _Balerion_, I could-" Jon cut her off.

"No. You should rest. I only ask you stay close... there's wild animals out there that would not hesitate to take you, too," Jon warned as Daenerys thought of his white wolf from earlier. The thought of her scrubbing floors and stoking fires was absurd. The fact she had been doing that the last three years was surprising. And the _Balerion_, her own ship? He jealously wondered who the commander was.

"How do you know me, my Lord?" Daenerys asked.

"I am not a Lord," and with that he unearthed a flask of wine, took a big swig and handed it to her. She sipped and waited for his answer.

"Once, these lands were not so safe. A terrible King roamed the North and with him, an undead army," he began. "I sought your aid because your lands possessed obsidian, dragon glass, we could use to defeat him."

"Dragon glass... and dragons?" She asked.

"Aye, dragons, too," he said softly, with a sad smile. "You saved me, and we fought the Army of the Dead together."

Daenerys dug into her memories but with no prevail.

"And then what?"

"Well we went to war. You had enemies. She killed one of your dragons," Jon said. Her heart hurt at the news of her deceased dragon. "The usurper died and the city burned for days and you disappeared. We thought you were dead."

She was shocked and wondered if she had burned the city down. The way the Wildlings reacted to her and the way Jon treated her affirmed it. She had, and she had killed hundreds, thousands probably, coinciding with her dreams of charred bodies piling on top of her. Remorse flooded her body. She took another huge gulp from the flask.

"Where did I go? Why didn't anyone come looking for me?" She asked.

"I'm not sure," Jon lied, knowing he had said enough. "But it's been three years, Dany. No one's seen you or Drogon since then."

"If you served me, why are you here?" She asked.

"I chose to live here. I had before. After the war, I needed to get away and start over again." That part was somewhat true. She gave him a curious look again; she didn't believe him, but said nothing. The flask was empty, and another one replaced it. She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fine, thanks," she said, and he shrugged and downed some more. "Thank you for telling me. This is... a lot."

"I know it is. I just can't believe you're here. I don't know what it means yet, but I'm glad you are."

* * *

Daenerys woke to horses galloping into the Thenn village.

"Jon Snow!" A voice cried out. "Your presence has been requested at Castle Black. Make haste — the Queen is coming."

The Queen? Daenerys thought she was queen. Of course, a new one had to rise in her stead. Jon entered her cabin and told her she was coming too. Dread filled her stomach. She didn't feel it wise or fitting to meet the Queen, especially if she had committed a crime and disappeared. But she had no choice. He had her cloaked and hair hidden, and they rode to Castle Black with Tormund, Ghost, and a dozen other riders. She sat behind Jon, clinging to his waist, noting the toned muscles beneath her clasped hands. At one point the horse had leaped higher than she expected and she let go in surprise and held on to his leg for stability; she had grabbed more than she bargained for. She quickly moved her hand back to his waist faint with embarrassment as he shifted uncomfortably. Daenerys knew the effect she had on men as they took in her silver-blonde hair, violet eyes, and a petite, lithe body. Daario kept her covered for good measure as he made clear she was his and his alone. The two blushed to themselves as they rode through the Northern hills.

The voyage to Castle Black took one full day. As they approached, she finally saw The Wall, stretching up and out into the sky. She barely saw the iron gates at the base rise as they descended into a fire-lit tunnel into finally Castle Black, the home of the Night's Watch. Tormund plucked her off the horse, legs shaking as it had been awhile since she had been on horseback. Jon dismounted after when a voice from above called to him.

"Jon," she said, and a hooded Daenerys glanced up to see her. A tall slender woman, with long copper hair studded by a crown adorned with wolves snapping at the sky, covered in a brilliant white and red cape inspired by the Weirwood Tree Daenerys arrived at. A giant hand pushed Daenerys down and to the ground as they all bowed to the Queen.

"Your Grace," Jon smiled as they all rose again, Dany hidden among the men. The Queen raced down the stairs into the landing and embraced Jon. She smiled warmly at him, steel blue eyes examining his face, his furs, before burying her face into them again. Soldiers flanked her, her personal guards no doubt, as Daenerys felt a twinge of jealousy.

"When I heard Drogon had flown by, I had to see for myself," the Queen said earnestly, her actions betraying her stature. She was much younger than them, true, barely in her 20s. "Winterfell has been such a bore lately. Did he visit you?"

"Aye, he did. Sansa, you'll never believe this but look who he brought," and Jon stepped aside to reveal Daenerys.

Sanaa's eyes widened in shock as her lips tightened. Before anyone could say another word, her icy glaze returned. "Seize her," Queen Sansa commanded.

* * *

"No!" Jon cried, reaching for his longsword, instantly stopped with swords at his neck. Daenerys froze to the spot in shock until Tormund grabbed her and pulled her behind him.

"You dare disobey your Queen?" The northern Queensguard spat, Sansa's eyes never leaving Daenerys.

"She's a part of the Free Folk now. You cannot have her. She doesn't remember anything!" Jon begged. Sansa shot Jon an angry look before waving her hand. The swords dropped as the soldiers assumed position.

"We will see," She said calmly. The Queen didn't like her, oh no, that was very clear, but she thought she felt a hint of fear from Sansa, too.

The company moved inside, Sansa sitting at the head table as Jon, Daenerys, and the rest of his men stood before her.

"How long have you been in the North?" Sansa questioned.

"I've been here for three days, Your Grace. The dragon brought me here," Dany replied. Sansa raised her eyebrows.

"Where were you before?"

"I-I was in Essos, hostage among a fleet of ships." Daenerys felt a voice whisper inside her head. _Be careful_, it warned.

"Hostage... or refugee?" Sansa wasn't buying it. Jon groaned.

"Sansa, please. She doesn't remember any of it. I need to give her some time to let it come back-" he began to protest, but Sansa raised her hand to silence him.

"She is not welcome in the North, I will not allow it. She will be brought South, to Raven's Landing where she will await trial from our king." And Daenerys was seized, the gasp lingering in her throat as Queen Sansa's soldiers grabbed her.

"Where is Drogon?" Sansa asked coolly. Jon looked resigned and looked between Sansa and Daenerys in despair. "I don't know. He flew off. No one's seen him."

The crow perched on the window shouted, "Drogon! Drogon!" Sansa nodded at it and it left into the brisk night with a flap of its wings.

"Jon?" Daenerys asked weakly, trying to keep it together. "Was this your plan all along?"

Jon shook his head. "Sansa, please. She doesn't know. Don't do this."

Sansa frowned at Jon. "Doesn't know what?" Cobalt eyes glared into amethyst ones as Sansa squared up to Daenerys. "That you murdered half a million innocents? That you burned all our food and let your savages run free?"

"No, Your Grace, please. I have been prisoner for the last three years. My captors have not told me anything! If I have done these crimes, let me stand trial but until then I cannot give you any answers!" Daenerys pleaded.

Sansa thought for a second. "A pity. You'll find out soon enough. Take her to my brother."

"Please... let me come with her," Jon asked. Sansa looked at Jon like he was the stupidest person alive.

"So an Unsullied bird can spot you and her in Raven's Landing, and send for an Unsullied armada to Westeros? No, you will remain north of the Wall until the trial is over, by order of the King." And with that, Sansa rose and strode to the door. "We ride for Winterfell. Take her to Eastwatch by the Sea."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

Daenerys was close to Raven's Landing, she could tell, as she roused in her cabin. She decided that she had no interest in the North or ever going back there, though she wondered why the dragon brought her to Jon in the first place. Her goodbye to Jon was brief as Sansa's soldiers escorted him back to the Wall; she could tell it broke his heart to be separated from her again. "I'll be there as soon as I can," Jon rasped in her ear before she was taken. She sniffed the air and was greeted by a rotten mixture of sewage and fish and salt. It reminded her of the ports in Essos.

The guards took her from the ship directly into a carriage as discreetly as they could. When Daenerys was brought into the Raven's Keep, a little man was waiting for her. He had one green eye and one black eye and was dressed in crimson and navy velvet coats. She wasn't sure what to do as he stood very still and he watched her.

"My Lord," Daenerys greeted him, curtsying the best she could. He didn't say a word and turned around, ascending the stairs on his stunted legs. She could tell that he was nervous.

The Raven's Keep was a magnificent castle, with each staircase a more glorious view of the city and the countryside. However, the further and further they climbed, Dany took note of the crumbling structures, found left and right all over the castle. Towers were missing and in the process of being patched. She could see massive craters throughout the city streets, skeletons of what was once markets and houses and stores. When they stepped onto the main landing, portions of the roof had not been constructed yet. _What happen when it rains?_ Dany thought.

At the far end of the room sat a young auburn-haired man with an angled face and thick brow. A mixed court of nobles and soldiers surrounded him as a sudden hush fell upon the room. As Daenerys approached the throne, she realized that he, donning a wolf fur just like Jon and Sansa, was in a wheelchair. The little man, wearing a silver Hand pin to signify that he was Hand of the King, stood to his right.

"All hail King Bran of the House Stark, First of His Name, Protector of the Realm and the Six Kingdoms," he announced.

"Thank you, Lord Tyrion. Hello, Daenerys."

"Your Grace," she bowed, peering at her company curiously. They seemed to be in awe of her arrival yet kept glancing at the sky as if the dragon were to appear at any minute. She hadn't spotted him since he left by the Weirwood Tree.

"Do you know why you're here today?" Tyrion asked first. Before she could speak, Bran answered.

"She doesn't."

Tyrion peeked back at his King before striding toward her.

"Do you know who I am?" Tyrion asked sincerely, sadness creeping at the corners of his face. She shook her head as the court grunted and stirred.

'Don't_ trust any of them_,' a thought sprung through her head.

"You died, right here," the King said, pointing right at the base of the steps of where he sat. "And then Drogon destroyed the throne that cursed you, and took your body and left. We thought you to be lost to the Narrow Sea."

"Your Grace, I don't remember," she replied.

"Of course not. No, this magic is strong," Bran mused, looking into her eyes. _So strong I cannot see past your death_, she heard his voice in her head. "How did you survive?" He inquired.

"I've been at sea, as a prisoner," Daenerys said, startled at what Bran had just done.

"Were you with a man named Daario Naharis?" Bran asked. Tyrion's brow creased.

"She's been with Daario this whole time? Of course," Tyrion piped in.

"Y-you know Daario? Yes, Your Grace. I was with him, but he didn't tell me anything," she said.

"Oh, you know, Daario has been sailing the good seas in your name, raging and rampaging, but we never anticipated that he actually had the Mother of Dragons onboard," Tyrion said. "We just thought he missed you."

"And why have you decided to return to Westeros?" Bran asked.

"I didn't. I had a dream I was freed. The next thing I knew, a dragon attacked our ship and took me to the North. To Jon," Daenerys said. She felt like she could be honest with the two yet had a sinking suspicion that they were not on her side.

Bran gave Tyrion a brief look. "We must confer with the council. Then we will decide your fate," Tyrion said. Daenerys wished she was back on the Balerion so bad.

"Excuse me, Your Grace, but council? I was told I would be given trial," Daenerys said, unsure where this outburst was coming from. But the Kingsguard steadily eyed her. The knights immediately placed their hands on their swords, ready to unsheathe them.

"You will be given a trial after the council, Lady Daenerys. But until then, you are a welcome guest at Raven's Landing. Please attend to her," King Bran instructed, and soon Daenerys was being escorted by the tallest woman she had ever seen, clad in silver armor and a Valyrian steel sword.

They brought her to a tower that had been finished, way above the Keep. From here, she could see Blackwater Bay through the barred windows, however a massive tower that had once been part of the castle peeked through the cerulean waves.

Had she done that?

Her room was quite comfortable, with a great bed, an armoire full of dresses fit for a noblewoman, vanity, and a table full of dried fruits and meats. She wondered if this was all a trick, that someone would drag her out of the room and take her to the dungeons instead. Daenerys collapsed on the bed, decompressing from her first week in Westeros.

Daenerys had a vague comprehension of what she had done: She had ordered her dragons to attack Raven's Landing. Someone had killed her, which explained the scar on her stomach. Shock, horror, remorse, and devastation filled her as bile rose in her throat and choked her. She couldn't see as the tears streamed down her face. Sansa was right to treat her like a criminal. She wasn't sure how her actions would be in her favor at her trial. Daenerys shuffled to the side of the bed for a chamber pot which she promptly threw up in. She stuffed a date in her mouth and chewed slowly to get rid of the taste.

She had died, Bran had told her, so she was killed for her evildoing. And by some strange coincidence, resurrected with absolutely no memory intact. All these years she thought Daario was imprisoning her, he was actually protecting her, taking his Queen as far away as he could from her vile past. Her heart ached for him.

Daenerys cried so much she didn't notice the books neatly wrapped on the bed until they fell in a big thump on the wooden floor. She picked them up, one very tattered, the other relatively new. _A Song of Ice and Fire_. Instinctively, she sat cross legged, propped the book up on her knees, and began to read.

* * *

Daenerys read up to the page about Joffrey Baratheon (who was actually a Lannister) when she heard a knock on her door.

"Come in," she said, leaving the bed and making herself look presentable. The latch unlocked and the opened as Tyrion entered.

"My lady. Have you taken to your abode?" He asked, sitting down and pouring two glasses of wine. He offered her the other as she tentatively accepted, but not until he drank first.

"Oh, my dear. You have nothing to worry about. We are not the enemy," Tyrion assured her, and at that moment a crow landed on the windowsill.

"But I am," Daenerys admitted, crossing the room to where the crow landed. Tyrion regretted what he said, desperate to change the subject, then saw the book splayed out on the covers.

"Ah," he brisked. "A Song of Ice and Fire. They wrote me out of there, you know." But she wouldn't have known, nor cared, and Tyrion instantly regretted that too.

Daenerys turned from the crow to Tyrion and placed her wine down. "Why are you here?" She asked.

"To check on our lovely guest. You've had a long journey and I'm sure you have many, many questions. How much did Jon Snow tell you?"

"Jon! Jon!" The crow cried. Daenerys went to sit by Tyrion and hesitated at first.

"That he sought my help for the war against the undead. And that I helped him," she replied.

"And after that?" Tyrion asked, looking at her closely.

"After that, it seems that I destroyed a city and was murdered for it. The rest goes to black. Please Lord Tyrion, I've answered enough questions. I told you that I don't remember," Daenerys said, tears threatening to escape again. She swallowed heavily and pleaded with her eyes. He placed his hand over hers.

"Daenerys – I served you until the very end," Tyrion admitted, and she felt just as frustrated as when Jon told her the same. These men, these people, all seemed to root for her up until she lost control. She hated that Daenerys' mistake for the shame she was feeling. But it was her, too, wasn't it? It was this brain, this heart, these hands, that caused a chaotic mayhem that the whole country was still healing from, and it made her feel so alone. Fuck that dragon for bringing her to this forsaken country. What she would do to be free at sea again, and not known as Daenerys Targaryen, the Mad Queen.

"But in my heart, you never died," Tyrion said quietly, more to himself than her.

"My Lord... I thank you for serving me, and sincerely apologize for the destruction that I caused. I wish I had stayed dead," Daenerys said, emitting a gasp from Tyrion.

"No, no, no," he protested. "No. We failed you. I failed you. I think about it every day. You are alive because the gods saw what you've done... who you are. You ended slavery in Essos. You united a khalasar. You've done wonderful things, not just terrible things. Don't be so down on yourself; I want you to be happy," Tyrion emphasized the happy, and she saw his intentions. He was still afraid of her. He wanted her to stay happy so she wouldn't call her dragon and burn the city down again.

"I have no interest in being here, my Lord," Daenerys confessed. "May I please send word to Daario? The _Balerion_ will take me, and you'll never hear from me again!"

Tyrion pondered at the offer. "I will bring it up with the council. Honestly I think death and losing your memory is punishment enough. But for some, it is not. You really wish to go back to sea and not Dragonstone?"

"I have a home?" She said, eyes alight with the prospect of her own castle. Jon never mentioned that. "If I do, then yes- I mean no. I need to think about it." She did not feel welcome in Westeros at all, and the sooner she left, the better. But if she had a place to call hers...

"Yes, Dragonstone is unoccupied and your family's ancestral home. You would feel very comfortable there. However I cannot make any promises. There are people who still remember what you did, and do not feel so easy with the Mother of Dragons, alive and back in Westeros," he reasoned. She nodded in understanding. Suddenly she felt very tired and wanted him to leave. Tyrion clued in and stood up to exit.

"This will not take long," Tyrion said, looking over at her. "You will have your answer soon enough."

* * *

The weekend passed as Dany remained in Raven's Keep. She could hear discord from the streets; the city knew she was here. She was a guest, sure, but was only allowed to stroll the gardens with guards and for short amounts of time. By Monday morning she learned what became of her trial.

"We cannot have it," Bran announced to the court in the Throne Room. She opened her mouth in disbelief.

"Queen Sansa promised me a trial," Daenerys demanded. The King shook his head.

"The city will riot regardless of the outcome. I don't know who revealed your presence, but our subjects are not happy," Bran stated. "They want your head." Daenerys dropped to her knees as Tyrion stepped forward to look into her face.

"Lady Daenerys, I cannot promise you safety to Essos or even Dragonstone. We have decided it's best that you stay here. In your same quarters of course, but we cannot let you free," Tyrion said. The court muttered in agreement, hateful eyes burning into her back. She covered her face with her hands. How did it come to this? Now she really was a prisoner. She had no one but herself to blame. Putting too much trust in these men who claimed to have served her in the past. No wonder she went insane. They were useless.

Once Daenerys was escorted back to her quarters, she threw herself on her bed and weeped. She banged on the windows until her arms were raw and bloody, chucking chairs at them again and again until they cracked and splintered, desperately wanting to throw herself out of the tower._ Why am I alive?_ She thought. So she could be passed around like a common mule until someone knew what to do with her?

Hours after Daenerys crumpled into her bed in defeat, a shadow hid the moon and the stars from Raven's Keep. The irons on her window were pulled out with a quiet thunk and tossed into the sea below. Air funneled through the room, and she woke to an open hole where her window used to be.

She peered outside and to her surprise saw the dragon again, the black dread that they called Drogon, carefully holding on to the tower. Drogon leaned his great black head forward so his head rested against the windowsill when she saw him.

"Jon?" Daenerys exclaimed, as she saw Jon seated atop the dragon.

"Daenerys, come. Hurry!" And she bravely crawled on Drogon's snout to Jon, straddling the dragon backwards as she embraced him, her face buried in his heaving chest.

"_Valahd_," Daenerys said, to both of their surprise, and Drogon gracefully let go of the tower and climbed over the Throne Room's ceiling before shooting off into the cloudy bay.

* * *

The ride was brief as Drogon descended into Dragonstone, Daenerys seeing her family's castle for the first time. Dragon statues perched on top of pillars, sneering at the sky, sea, and land, daring anyone to enter. At the entrance of the castle, Daenerys could hear the waves crashing among the cliffs. She and Jon dismounted Drogon as he leaped into the sky and disappeared into the night again. However she knew this time he wasn't going far.

"You came for me," Daenerys said shyly, looking up at her savior. Jon held her hands and kissed them.

"I lost you before, I didn't want to lose you again," Jon said, and then his lips met hers. Drogon roared from somewhere high up above and Daenerys recoiled from Jon.

"Did you- did you do this when I was queen?" she asked. He nodded slowly.

"You are my queen, Dany. Now and forever," Jon said, gazing at her with those smoldering eyes. Suddenly, they were not alone.

"I told you if I ever saw you again, I would fucking kill you," a solemn voice said in the shadows. Jon shifted Daenerys to his side and drew Longclaw out in one fell swoop. The voice chuckled before stepping forward, dark brown eyes glaring . "You made a very big mistake coming here, Jon Snow."


	4. Chapter 4

_Warning: It gets kind of smutty at the end. Read at your own risk. (Please read reviews for Author's Notes.)_

**Chapter IV**

"_Step aside, my Queen_," said a man donning black leathers sporting a three-headed dragon emblem on his chest. He spoke in Valyrian as she watched him prepare his spear in horror.

"_No!_" She stood in front of Jon to protect him. "_He saved my life, I was imprisoned by the King._"

The man looked at Daenerys longingly before lowering his weapon. "_I can't believe it's you_," he said softly in Valyrian, looking like he had seen a ghost. Jon exhaled deeply behind her and she realized they were surrounded by soldiers. She waved her hand as Sansa had done in the North, and the men withdrew their weapons.

"Who are you?" Daenerys asked the man. The look he gave her she was used to by now, but still poignant nonetheless.

"She doesn't remember," Jon said.

"_My Queen Daenerys, I am Grey Worm, general of the Unsullied. We have pledged allegiance to the House Targaryen for many years. I have been looking for you for many years_," Grey Worm said. Her eyes widened in surprise. She had an army? An Unsullied army at that, too. She wondered if the Dothraki had been her army as well. So someone had been looking for her. Daenerys felt her strength coming back.

"_Step away from this man, Queen Daenerys_," Grey Worm advised. "_You should not trust him._" And with that, his soldiers attacked Jon and he was instantly pinned down to the ground. Grey Worm unsheathed a dagger and walked towards him.

"_Stop_," Daenerys commanded. "_He saved my life. Bring him inside._" Grey Worm obeyed but not before sharply kicking Jon in the side. Daenerys winced but felt relieved. Jon Snow would live another day.

* * *

Dragonstone was dark and damp, the castle fashioned out of the natural rocks from its stony jagged cliffs. The Throne Room was even more impressive and foreboding, a throne carved into the diagonal, jutting rocks. The Unsullied lit torches inside the castle and escorted Daenerys to her chambers, an impressive fit-for-a-queen suite overlooking the sea. Dust had settled on the rich mahogany furniture as she inspected the room. She opened her armoire and admired the wardrobe full of silks, cloaks, and leather suits from all over the world. Daenerys shimmied off her dress from Raven's Landing and opted for a sleeveless, floor-length black silk dress with a silver dragon pin on the shoulder. It fit her perfectly. On her table, she found an obsidian box and opened it to find a silver crown entwined with a ruby-eyed dragon head, resting on crushed red velvet. Daenerys lightly grazed the dragon head before closing the box slowly and making her way back to the main landing. Grey Worm was waiting outside of her door.

"_Where have you been, my Queen?_" Grey Worm asked as they strolled through the wing.

"_I've been on the Balerion, with Daario, in Essos. I have no memory of what happened before_," Daenerys said for the millionth time. But this time, with Grey Worm, she felt a sense of security.

"_When I heard of your arrival, I came to Dragonstone straight away. I knew in my heart I would find you here_," Grey Worm said. "_I am happy you are. You will be safe with me. Nothing will happen to you ever again_," Grey Worm promised and tears stung her eyes. She stopped in the hall to compose herself before leaning toward him.

"Thank you, Grey Worm," she said as she placed a gentle hand on his cheek. He gave a half smile and they continued down the hall.

Daenerys refused to sit in the Throne Room so Grey Worm showed her the War Room to the left of it instead. Inside, a large map of Westeros, carved into a stone table dominated the room. Figurines littered the map as she took in all the cities and lands. Jon Snow was brought in as a fire burned slowly in the hearth.

"You have not told her, have you?" Grey Worm asked Jon as he dropped his head in shame.

"No," he said hoarsely. A shadow of a smirk flicked across Grey Worm's face before he shifted his gaze to Daenerys.

"The last time I saw this man, he had followed you inside the Iron Throne in King's Landing. That was the last time I saw you," Grey Worm said. Daenerys glanced at Jon, horrified. It was him who had murdered her.

"Is this true?" She asked him, her stomach knotting. She had been close to this man a handful of times since she first came to Westeros. He could have turned around and killed her at any time, and she wouldn't have had a clue.

"Yes," Jon admitted, slamming a fist on the war table. "Aye, it is. I barely got out of the city alive. You had burned down King's Landing and thousands of people and still weren't satisfied. We couldn't let you burn the whole country down!"

She nodded slowly, remembering the destruction of the now Raven's Landing. She must have been very unhinged back then; she couldn't imagine herself doing any of those things now.

"I regret it every day. So when Drogon brought you back to me, I knew the gods had heard me. I knew they wanted to give me a second chance," Jon said, tears leaking into his beard.

"You will never get another chance," Grey Worm snarled. "She loved you, and you betrayed her. You commit treason." Grey Worm turned to Daenerys. "Kill him, Queen Daenerys. I cannot have this traitor near you."

"He will be free until he gives us a reason otherwise. He's saved my life twice. You will stay by my side," Daenerys said to Grey Worm, that warm strength bubbling up inside her again. She had killed enough people; she refused to have any more blood on her hands. Grey Worm nodded and Jon was released. He sat down across from her, unwilling to leave her side as well.

"What will you do now, my Queen?" Grey Worm asked.

"Please stop calling me that. I don't want to be Queen," she replied curtly. Jon raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I suppose the King will send for me now that I've defied him."

"No one will come to you unless you allow it," Grey Worm reminded her as she thought of Drogon in the sky.

"You must write to him. Tell him the terms of your surrender and that you do not intend to take any more than Dragonstone," Jon said.

"Surrender? Daenerys Targaryen does not surrender. She could not even surrender in death. No, Daenerys, you are our queen. If they come for you, we will attack. We cannot lose you again," Grey Worm said. "Send for Daario. He will be wondering where you went."

"We do not want to go to war!" Jon exclaimed, not wanting the Dothraki to come back to Westeros. The whole situation would look suspicious. "Please tell King Bran you wish to live here in peace and swear not to harm anyone."

Daenerys looked at both of the men, still hurt from the fact Jon did what he did. She felt cheated because she could tell he still loved her, but did not think to trust him anymore. He would have to earn it.

"I will write to both," Daenerys decided. "I am not surrendering but I do not wish to inflict any harm. Daario has been taking care of me for the past three years; he deserves to know where I am."

* * *

A fortnight passed in Dragonstone as she accustomed herself to her new home. Her family had built this castle first, before designing the one at Raven's Landing. Ravens flew in and out of the castle. Messages from former allies, across Essos and Westeros, asking about her return. Wondering what the next move was.

It seemed the Realm was not in favor of war but acquiring Daenerys' outstanding power. The Mother of Dragons was a formidable ally: She had an army, naval fleet, a dragon, and the right family name. She hoped King Bran would be able to see this too.

One morning, the bow of the _Balerion_ peeked through the bay, followed by a host of 100 ships that housed the Dothraki and the Second Sons. Daario met Daenerys on the shore, and she giggled as he took her hand, kissed it, and knelt to the ground.

"My Queen," Daario exclaimed before standing up and spinning her around the sand. "I've come to rescue you." After, he held her close and smothered her.

"I owe you my life," Daenerys whispered in his ear, pressing herself against him.

From the cliffs, Jon watched the reunion, turning shades of red. He watched how she skipped about like a little girl, grabbed on to Daario's face, arms, waist, neck; something he would never have again. After Daenerys found out the truth about Jon, he confessed that he was her kin (to her surprise) and swore fealty to his true family, House Targaryen. Daenerys pieced together that he should have been King of Westeros, not her, and decided it was better to keep Jon there than banish him to the Wall, back to Sansa, again. She knew he didn't want to leave, and secretly, a part of her didn't want him to either, much to Daario and Grey Worm's dismay. House Stark sent the Knights of the Vale to retrieve Jon, but he declined them all and sent word to Sansa that he was safe. There was no word back from Raven's Landing.

Daenerys' Queensguard swelled twice its size upon Daario's arrival, and then she was never alone. Her soldiers knocked and fought Jon constantly, knowing he was only kept alive under Daenerys' orders.

"I will have no more of this abuse," Daenerys stated from her throne one day after noticing Jon's eyes were black and blue. "You will respect my nephew as he is the prince of Dragonstone." And the tormenting stopped then.

Daario was never around but Jon knew he was the culprit to his beatings. Daario kept busy, establishing trade in between Essos and Westeros, taking extra care to send business and gifts to Raven's Landing. A month passed and Daenerys stayed true to her word of keeping the peace in Westeros but staying on Dragonstone, which she didn't mind at all. She was at peace herself; she had a home, people who were loyal to her, someone who loved her. However, some days Daenerys often found her eyes lingering on Jon for too long. To her inner joy, she found him staring back at her too. Finally, one evening, Jon was summoned into Daenerys' chambers. He found her in a black silk slip, hair undone and sprawled out on her bed, as Daario stood by the bedpost, staring at his Queen. Daenerys beckoned an arm toward Jon as he anxiously crossed the room, breath shallow as he glanced at Daario. The Tyroshi let out a deep exhale as he knelt into the bed to kiss Daenerys, and Jon followed suit, sheer black canopy drapes fluttering down and surrounding them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

"How did you know I was in the tower?" Daenerys murmured one lazy morning, her and Jon's bodies basking in the sunrise. After that first night with Daario and Daenerys, Daenerys did not ask for it again much to Jon's relief and divided her evenings between the men. Jon was still getting used to her polyamory, a custom he wasn't sure if he was fond of, but it was not an uncommon practice for the Wildlings, the Dothraki, or even the Targaryens to share their bed. Aegon the Dragon did the same with his sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya. He couldn't blame Daenerys for wanting Daario as she had been with him for the past three years and he had gone above and beyond his duties by keeping the Queen hidden and fighting for her cause. As the weeks went on though, Daenerys spent more of her evenings with Jon, eventually only visiting Daario's chambers once a week. Daario was in Braavos this week, Jon thankful that he would have her all to himself for once.

"I dunno," Jon breathed into her hair as he gently ran his fingers through it. "I was at Castle Black when I heard they were planning to keep you at Raven's Landing, and that's when Drogon showed up and brought me there."

"And you just knew where I'd be?" She asked, tracing her fingers along the scar on his heart.

"I just knew where you'd be," he responded before burying their bodies into the sheets once again.

* * *

That week, Lord Davos of King Bran's council came to Dragonstones' shores and approached the Mother of Dragons.

"My Lady Daenerys, if I may have a word," Davos requested in the Throne Room. Daenerys gave Jon a curt nod, who then walked forward to greet his old friend. "Jon, I'm glad you're here."

"What news do you bring from the capital?" Jon asked. Davos shifted uncomfortably; Daenerys knew she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear.

"Since you've returned, my Lady, we cannot help but notice an increase in your forces. The Unsullied troops were understandable, but now we have a fleet of Dothraki and Second Sons on our coasts," Davos began as Daenerys and Jon saw where this was headed.

"I see," Daenerys said shortly. "Well, I am staying true to my word. I do not plan to attack Raven's Landing. My people are just paying their respects. I can have subjects, can I not?"

"We have word of the Iron Fleet led by Yara Greyjoy coming to join you," Davos continued. "I know you are recovering, my Lady, and we admire your return. So much that I am not sure what I'm about to say should leave this room." Daenerys raised her eyebrows.

"Leave us," she commanded as her court dismissed save Jon, Davos, and the Queensguard.

Davos took a deep breath as his eyes swept the room. "There is a conspiracy that our King manipulated you the day you stormed King's Landing." Daenerys frowned as Jon and Grey Worm advanced closer to hear him.

"I know you know of his abilities. He is a greenseer; he claims he can only see the past, but he's able to see the future, too. However, since you returned, we've noticed a shift in our King," Davos said. "He spent two days trying to track you the night you escaped, but failed. We didn't know you were here until you sent word and one of our ships spotted Drogon.

"Now I know it is not my place — it never is — but if this is true, it means he is guilty of the mass murder at King's Landing. Not you," Davos concluded, Jon's worst fears confirmed. He recalled what Bran last said to him."You were exactly where you needed to be." Bran had told Jon about his parentage, which put a wedge in between him and Daenerys. His claim to the Iron Throne drove her to paranoia, along with the death of Jorah, Rhaegal, and Missandei. Daenerys was not the same after that, as Jon vividly recalled the nightmares of fire and blood on the streets of King's Landing.

"What do you mean he manipulated me?" Daenerys asked.

"I'm saying, my Lady… my Queen," he corrected himself, heat flushing on Daenerys' cheeks. "That he controlled Drogon and is an accomplice in the destruction of King's Landing." Daenerys stood up and stepped down from her throne.

"He can control… my dragon?" Daenerys said in disbelief.

"Aye, he's a warg. I've seen him do it with wolves, birds, and even children," Davos admitted. "If this true-"

"If this is true, then I never should have killed you," Jon said quietly, shaking in anger. "You could've took the Iron Throne, and we… and we-"

"There's nothing we can do about it now, Jon. If this is true, it's in the past. He won the Game," Daenerys said, nervously looking at her lover. "I don't want the throne," Daenerys said to Davos. "The ships will sail for Meereen. I just want peace, is that so bad?"

"Since Drogon found you, you seem to have this immunity to Bran's powers. You, Jon, and Drogon. He can't see you three," Davos said. "Now I know you do not know me, my Queen, but it should be you on that throne. Not this pretender who killed thousands and put the blame on you. Who's to say he won't come after you again?"

"Even if this is true, Lord Davos, we have no proof. I have no memory," Daenerys protested, unwilling to spill more blood. "I have seen the aftermath of my crimes. What you're saying is treason, please!"

"Daenerys, look outside!" Jon said, grabbing her by the shoulders. The Queensguard flinched. "These people are still by your side, ready to die for you. It's been three years but they know in their hearts this is true. You must take back the throne!"

"No," Daenerys said coldly. "I have no love in Westeros. What's a Queen without love?"

"How do we know this is not a ploy, old man?" Grey Worm interrupted, casually leaning against his spear, ready to engage in a second's notice. "How do we know the King is not spying through you?"

"Because he cannot see Dragonstone anymore with Daenerys Targaryen back in Westeros," Davos said. "He thinks I am here to garner your surrender and send your ships away. But know this, my Queen — do not think he is not coming for you. A wolf always hunts his prey."

* * *

"It explains why he was unable to spot you," Daario said in the War Room a few days later after he returned. "He has a blind spot for Targaryens."

"He's been controlling Drogon for three years, which is why it took so long for him to find me," Daenerys affirmed, fondly thinking of her dragon. "He must have slipped one day, or Drogon just literally saw me." She paced around the stone table and found them all staring at her.

"I know what you're thinking," Daenerys said. "The answer is no. I died once trying to become Queen. I'm not going to die for it again."

"You don't have to die for anything. You will stay here with Drogon. I will take back the city for you," Jon said as Daario chuckled.

"You and what army?" Daario teased. "No one is going to follow you into battle, not after what you did. My sweet Queen," he turned to hold her hand. "Let me ride into King's Landing for you. Let me take back what is yours."

Daenerys couldn't believe her ears. Here she was trying to avoid war and learn from her mistakes, but her council was advising her to send King's Landing and her enemies straight back to hell. She shook her head in disagreement.

"It appears my stay in Westeros is coming to a close," Daenerys said, sad at the prospect of leaving Dragonstone. "We must retreat to Meereen."

"Does the dragon cower when the wolf shows his teeth?" Jon asked her, as everyone glared at him. She dropped her head in shame and turned to the sea. The Daenerys she once was, was a powerful militant, she'd give herself that, but who she was now sought for stability and peace after years of running all her life.

"I've lost you all before," Daenerys said defeatedly, looking around the War Room. She saw Grey Worm, Jon, Daario, even herself, scattered to different corners of the world after her mistakes in The Last War. "I cannot lose you all again."

She felt the truth in what Davos had said though, about Bran orchestrating her death. Grey Worm and Daario were on her side, ready to leave this continent and be back in Essos where Daenerys was accepted and loved and safe. However Jon's face was unreadable as he joined her at the window. Daenerys touched his arm tenderly, smiling at him.

"There's no place for you here, my love," she said. "Come with me to Meereen. Don't die in this country." Jon gave her a small smile, nodding absentmindedly, knowing what he had to do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

As Daario and Grey Worm made preparations to sail for Essos, Daenerys couldn't help but sense bitterness from Jon.

"What's wrong with you?" She snapped when he wouldn't kiss her back in the empty Throne Room. His jaw hardened.

"I know you have a way to go with your mind, but the Daenerys I knew would never back down like this," Jon said to her very quietly, his face inches away from hers. She gave him a hard shove as one of her guards began to approach them.

"It's fine," Daenerys muttered, waving him away.

"Our childhood, our birthright was stolen from us. We were supposed to be the prince and princess of King's Landing, raised to serve the Realm," Jon reminded her, as Daenerys swatted her tears away angrily. "Despite what they took from us, we struggled yes but we still survived! Twice now! We were meant to be together and rule the Seven Kingdoms. Why can't you see?"

"I do see," Daenerys replied coolly. "I have also learned from my mistakes. I will not have you fight your family, you understand? Aren't you tired of being a pawn in all of this?"

"They are not my family," Jon said bitterly, thinking of how they sent him back to the Wall when all was said and done. "I don't want to be a pawn. I want to be your King." He bent on one knee, gently cradling her soft small hands in his rough ones.

"I should have done this a long long time ago. I love you, my Queen. Will you marry me?"

Daenerys beamed and had Jon rise, embracing him when they were at eye level. "Yes, Jon. I will marry you."

"Let me take back the Seven Kingdoms for you," he asked, nuzzling her ear. "For us," he whispered.

"For the last time, no," she said. "We will rule together in Meereen. Leave your family to their schemes."

* * *

A small host came to say farewell to the Targaryen family on Dragonstone. Together, there was Lord Davos, Gendry Baratheon, Yara Greyjoy, Prince Owen Martell of Dorne, and the new Lady of the Reach, Cassandre Tyrell.

"My Lords, my Ladies," Daenerys began after they feasted. "I thank you for coming all this way; I wish to maintain excellent relations with each and every one of you from Meereen." Drogon slithered on the roof above the hall, his thunderous steps shaking the castle. "I know the King will not be pleased that you came to sup with me on our last evening in Westeros. However, rest assured I intend to stay on your King's good side with future trade and commerce."

And with that, the dinner ended and Daenerys retreated to her bed, satisfied. She then heard a knock on her door.

"It is Yara Greyjoy," Grey Worm announced. Daenerys smiled, knowing this was a night long overdue for the two. "Come in," she instructed as Yara entered the room.

"My Queen, I know it is late, but I just wanted to ask you," Yara said, peering at Daenerys.

"Yes, anything, Yara," Daenerys said, crossing the room to her guest. To her horror, Yara slipped her face off, and Arya Stark stood before her.

"Do you have any last words?" Arya asked, pointing her Valyrian dagger at Daenerys' chest.

* * *

Jon was in his chambers, packing his final items, when he felt fear shudder through his body. Outside, Drogon roared. "Daenerys!" He yelled bursting through the corridor to get to her room. Grey Worm stood outside unperturbed.

"The Queen!" Jon shouted, as he kicked the doors open. Inside, Daenerys laid in a pool of her blood, sputtering as she feebly pointed out the bay windows. Jon swore he saw Arya for a fleeting second as she stepped back into the shadows, disappearing into thin air.

"It was Yara Greyjoy who came in, where is she?" Grey Worm flipped tables and nightstands in frustration, devastated of what became of his Queen. Jon howled, burying his face in Daenerys' blood-soaked garments. This couldn't be happening again.

The castle was a frenzy as her soldiers scoped the perimeters for Yara though Jon knew they would not succeed. Daenerys' body was rinsed and wrapped as they laid her gently on the table in the War Room. No one was allowed to enter as Jon and Grey Worm grieved, bloodying their knuckles on the walls, on the floor, on whatever their fists met. A soldier came in and shot Grey Worm news in Valyrian. His face paled.

"Our fleet has been attacked," Grey Worm revealed. "They used wildfire. Half the ships did not make it." Jon's stomach turned inside out. Daario was leading those ships with the Dothraki, the Unsullied to accompany Daenerys and Jon the next day. Jon stood up. He knew what he had to do.

"Where are you going?" Grey Worm asked him, as he stood by Daenerys limp body, staring down at his Queen. Jon ignored him as he stormed out of the castle and fled into the night.

* * *

The Queen's guests roused and heard the news, taking note that Yara was no longer in attendance. They gathered in the Throne Room as they heard the somber news, wondering if they were next to go. The Ironborn demanded for their leader.

"She's dead," Davos said. "And so is the Queen. King Bran has sent an assassin!"

The great doors opened and in came a beautiful dark-haired woman cloaked in red.

"Am I too late?" she asked solemnly, crossing the Throne Room to the War Room. "Where is Jon Snow?"

"We do not know where Jon is," Lord Davos said. "Are you a priestess?"

"Yes," Kinvara said as they followed her into the War Room. "Oh, my Queen," she began to weep as she cupped Daenerys' cheek. "Please, pray with me."

The uncertain allies shifted around the table to link hands over Daenerys body. Kinvara began to chant, the dwindling hearth coming back to life, sputtering fire and ashes into the room. Half an hour later, she had a secret smile on her face as she looked at them all.

"Please rest," Kinvara assured. "The Lord of Light be with you all." And the heartbroken company went back to their respectful rooms. Kinvara sat by Daenerys, clutching her hand.

* * *

Out of the darkness, Daenerys felt the sun's early rays on her face. She couldn't move. She was in the War Room, she could tell, the stone carved table cold on her back, eyes blurred. A warm hand covered hers, and moments later she felt herself come back to life. When she could see clearly again, pain shot from her heart to her toes. She screamed in agony.

Kinvara stood up and gently helped Daenerys sit up. Daenerys could see the blood soaking through her bandages and tunic and frantically began to pull at her clothing. She began to bawl once the previous evening came flooding back to her.

"Yara's dead, and then she killed me," Daenerys sobbed, the fresh wound throbbing in her chest.

"The God of Death did not win today," Kinvara said quietly, brushing Daenerys' blonde locks out of her face.

"Where is Jon?" Daenerys asked, prompting Grey Worm to enter. He fell to his knees.

"My Queen!" He exclaimed, his face crumpling at Daenerys resurrection. She covered her face to contain herself. "Jon Snow has left Dragonstone, Your Grace. We do not know where he went!"

Daenerys mind raced, hoping he hadn't run off to do something stupid, as she turned to the Red Priestess. "It was you, wasn't it?" She asked Kinvara, wincing. "And the first time, too."

"Yes, it was me, Your Grace," Kinvara admitted. "The Lord of Light still has many plans for you."

"But I can remember everything this time," Daenerys said. "Why did you take my memory away the first time?" She asked again.

"Because it was too painful for you to bear, my Queen," Kinvara said. "How were you to come back to Westeros if not on your own time? And with no memory, no history, how could that silly bird find you? I'm sure he had a difficult time trying." Daenerys nodded in understanding, still in shock that she had visited the veil last night. She was blessed to see another day.

"Our ships have been attacked, Daenerys," Grey Worm told her. "The King fought with wildfire. Half did not make it." Tears welled in Daenerys eyes for her fallen Dothraki. She should have heeded Lord Davos warning. She thought their retreat would be enough to protect them.

"And Daario?" she asked, unable to look Grey Worm in the face.

"There is no word," he replied.

Daenerys groaned in exasperation. How could she be so blind? King Bran never planned on letting her leave Westeros alive.

"I would have been better prepared had I known what my enemy was capable of!" Daenerys shouted at Kinvara, regretting the words as soon as they escaped her mouth. She had just brought her back to life after all. Kinvara clasped her hands and gave her a hard look.

"Your Grace, forgive me for keeping your memories from you. I was only doing it to protect you," Kinvara said. Daenerys sobbed on the table, physically aching from her wound. Kinvara walked around the table, unearthing a vial at the end of a stowed away necklace, extending it to Daenerys.

"Would you like them back?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII**

Jon ran to the grassy cliffs of Dragonstone as the castle erupted in commotion. The Unsullied left no stone unturned.

"Drogon!" Jon yelled into the sky, the howling wind drowning out his cries. "Drogon!" The tears were inevitable now, pouring in salty streams as all he could see was Daenerys' crestfallen face and the bedstone, soaking up her blood, stains on his hands and garments. Jon fell on all fours and retched, unable to accept it.

For a second, a blanket of darkness enclosed him, making Dragonstone and the sea and winds feel so far away. Then he felt the hot breath on his back. Jon carefully stood up, wolf furs sliding against an armor of scales on Drogon's breast. He reared slowly, reaching his hand out for Drogon to smell him, like he had done at Castle Black.

_There must be three._

"You know what I have to do," Jon murmured into Drogon's eye as the dragon rumbled in agreement. Jon hoisted himself on Drogon's elbow and climbed upward to the base of his neck. Once he held tight, Drogon sprinted off the cliff, his wings catching their fall as they flew off into the night.

* * *

Jon never really cared for King's Landing (or whatever it was now) as it was the embodiment of everything that had been taken away from him. He often thought about what would have happened if Robert Baratheon just let Lyanna go, if he would have been raised in Dorne, or eventually King's Landing. It wouldn't have been him in succession, it would have been his father, Rhaegar Targaryen. He would have spent a winter with his cousins, hunting in the North, and summer frolicking in Dorne, because the Seven Kingdoms were his. He would have had been raised by his fierce-spirited mother and well-tempered father, and probably more dragon-wolf siblings. He would have been close with Daenerys, for they were the same age, and he could have protected her from everyone who would come to harm her. Jon was sure that even in those perfect circumstances, they most definitely would have fallen in love.

But because of Robert's lust, entire families were wiped out in the span of three decades. The Tyrells, the Lannisters, the Starks, the Baratheons. The list went on and on. He always thought being a bastard was a curse from the gods but Daenerys definitely had it worse. She had no home, no parents, no friends, just that silver-blonde hair to remind her who she was and what she could have been. Her virginity had been sold, the only family she did have was cursed by black magic, and when she finally did reach Westeros, she risked it all for a Throne their ancestors had promised. Catelyn Stark may have been a cold bitch to him, but at least he had a family and a home. Daenerys did not.

Drogon let Jon onto the wall closest to the Godswood in the gardens. The dragon snatched the nearest soldier who had barely opened his mouth to scream as Jon swiftly ran through the path, slaying all in his way. He paused at the Oak Tree covered with vines and dragon's breath when he saw the King beneath its shadow.

"I thought I'd find you here," Bran said. Jon sheathed Longclaw.

"You're not really Bran, are you?" He called to him as he approached. Wolves suddenly appeared, stalking Jon and circling him. Jon halted.

"The Bran Stark you once knew has passed," the Three-Eyed Raven admitted. Jon bared his teeth at him.

"Why did you do this? What do you hope to get out of this?" Jon asked him through gritted teeth. Bran eyed Jon's bloodstained hands and gave him a slow sadistic smile.

"Why, everything, Jon Snow," he answered. "Too long have the Starks left me to rot in the North, too long have I watched conquerors and dictators play God."

"You played God, too," Jon said evenly. "When you made the Night King and his White Walkers. What you've done to the North, you have to answer for your crimes. What you've done to Bran-"

"I _am_ a God," the Three-Eyed Raven said, the surrounding wolves drawing in tighter. "I am the past, present, and future. I can bend anyone to my will. Except for now you Targaryens, you and your damned Red God." Jon could feel the wolves snapping at his coat, hairs rising on his neck.

"You understand what I must do now, Jon Snow," the shell of Bran said, "for I cannot have disobedience in my kingdom. Now that you know the truth."

"My name is not Jon Snow," Jon said, relinquishing Longclaw, the wolves barking ferociously now. "I am Aegon of the House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. And I sentence you to die."

Before Jon could even bound out of the wolf trap and toward Bran, a tremendous flame engulfed the Godswood, Bran's eyes alight at the wolves dancing and shrieking in the fire. Jon fell to his stomach, the soles of his boots and his cloak crisping into ashes in the wind. He could smell his hair burning as he curled into a ball, hoping Drogon would see him in the flames. Drogon then collected Jon, who was sweltering but could feel no burns, and escaped into the air. As Jon held on to Drogon's ankle, he briefly saw the remains of what was once Bran in the skeleton of the wheelchair, a heap of burning wolves surrounding him, and the Oak Tree's branches ablaze. His revenge felt sweet and Drogon gave a satisfied whinny, as the bells from King's Landing rang and rang until he could no longer hear them.

* * *

Daenerys sat on her throne, a disheveled mess, braids undone, the crimson and black kimono on her body askew. The Lords and Ladies of Westeros gasped and fell to their knees, bowing to their Queen.

"How can this be?" Prince Owen cried out.

"You were dead, I saw you, _I saw you_!" Lady Cassandre whispered harshly.

"The Lord of Light has willed Queen Daenerys to rule the Seven Kingdoms," Kinvara announced to the hysterical court. "The Lord blesses all of his believers. You too will now revel in the Lord's Grace."

The great doors burst open from behind them as Jon Snow staggered in, face covered in soot and clothing in tatters, anchoring a barely alive Daario Naharis. Daario's left leg and arm had been burned off. The world paused as he saw Daenerys.

"Gods be good," he whispered. And she stepped down from the throne and crossed the court to Jon.

"Someone get Daario, now!" Grey Worm called out as the soldiers caught Daario and whisked him away to the infirmary.

She looked like an angel as she floated across the room to where he stood. He didn't care that his clothes dared to fall off, that everyone was looking at them. She was there and she was his and nothing could stop them now.

Daenerys halted before Jon as he bent to his knees in awe.

"My Queen," he said to the hem of her silks.

"Where were you?" She asked.

"I killed the King," he said, eyes never leaving the floor. Daenerys eyes widened as everyone else elicited their own reaction. She signaled for him to rise.

"There will be war," Jon announced. "But no longer will this country be ruled by pretenders. Like my grandfather and the fathers before him, Westeros will heed us as the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms." He reached for Daenerys hand as he drew her to his side. "We will take back the North, we will take back what was stolen from us."

* * *

The Council Room in Raven's Landing was pure chaos.

"Was it Daenerys?" Bronn asked.

"No," Tyrion said, plopping down, and pouring himself a very full glass of wine. "It was Jon Snow."

"Fuck!" The room groaned as Sam lowered his eyes, unable to look at anyone.

"I knew this was coming, I should have killed Jon Snow when I had the chance," Tyrion said. Sam glanced at Tyrion in horror. Was he about to say what he thought he was going to say?

"What do you mean?" Brienne said into her hands.

"I was sworn to secrecy and I watched my best friend burn because I told him," Tyrion began. "But what does it matter now? Cats out of the bag. The King is dead.

"Jon is not Ned Stark's bastard son. He's the sister's son, of Lyanna Stark, who was married to Rhaegar Targaryen." Everyone's jaw dropped open as the realization settled.

"So you're telling me, he's the heir to the Seven Kingdoms?" Bronn yelled in disbelief. "Fuck me. And he's screwing with the recently alive Mother of Dragons, who also wants to be Queen? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I thought sending him to the Wall would be enough punishment since Daenerys was gone," Tyrion said. "He's going to come after me next. I convinced him to kill her." Tyrion tried to look at each of their faces but they avoided his gaze.

"Where's Davos?" He asked.

The room sat in stunned silence, unsure what to do next.

"I expect Queen Sansa will be marching down with her troops," Brienne anticipated. "We can also call the bannermen from the West and the Eyrie. We wiped out a good portion of her ships last night, too."

"My only question is, why is Jon just now deciding to act on his birthright and not then?" Sam asked.

"You imagine being brought back from the dead, you'd think you had a purpose. Then the both of them!" Bronn retorted.

"There will be war and it will be bloody," Tyrion stated amongst the shouting voices. "But no matter what, we must avenge the King and defend the Throne."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII**

_MEEREEN, THREE YEARS AGO_

A dragon's roar was a sound one could not easily forget, especially for Daario Naharis. Which was why he was startled to hear Drogon's desperate cries from the top of the Great Pyramid. What was he doing here?

As he made his way to the Queen's chambers, that was where he saw her. Gently laid on the balcony, Daenerys ice cold and still, with a dagger plunged into her heart. Daario picked her up in his arms and for the first time in years, wept. Drogon hissed through his nostrils and gave a halting screech to the guests arriving at the base of the pyramid as Daario peered over the landing and spotted that unmistakable red cloak. The priestess.

Drogon leaned over and gave Daenerys what could have been a kiss for his mother and shot Daario a look.

_Protect her._

And with that, he left as quickly as he came, as Daario scooped Daenerys into his arms again and brought her into her chambers.

* * *

"This cannot be true," Kinvara said sadly, looking down at the Queen, even more beautiful on her deathbed.

"Who did this?" Daario demanded.

"The wolves," Kinvara replied. "She has been betrayed."

"She- she lost? Impossible," Daario scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head. The last he knew was that Rhaegal, Missandei, and Jorah were killed, but King's Landing was ripe for the taking.

"Yes… by the one she loved," Kinvara said, stroking her hair.

"I will kill that motherfucker. I swear by the old gods and the new, if it's the last thing I do," he said through gritted teeth.

"There is only one God, and he has called me here for a reason," Kinvara began, signaling a servant. They began to remove Daenerys' leather dress and unfurl her braids.

"I don't care about your fucking God unless he can bring her back!" Daario said angrily, grabbing Kinvara's wrist as she pulled the dagger out of Daenerys.

"Patience, Ser," Kinvara said with a smile on her face. "Have faith in the Lord." And with that the ritual began. Kinvara took a damp cloth and began to wipe away the soot and ash on Daenerys' skin. They lathered her in different scented oils and began to rinse her silver blonde locks, the water running black into the bucket below. She snipped off the ends of her hair and sprinkled it into the closest hearth. The hair sizzled into the embers as the fire rose toward the ceiling. Kinvara began to chant, pressing her hands over Daenerys heart. She looked at Daario solemnly.

"Well, did it work?" He asked.

"I did everything I was supposed to-" Kinvara started until they heard a sudden gasp, the fires blazing in the chambers. They ran to Daenerys' side as her chest heaved and she took her first breath of air. Her eyes widened with fear and surprise, eyes frantically scanning her surroundings. Daenerys began to sit up, only to collapse again on her bed.

"Easy now," Daario said, tears brimming in his eyes, joy leaping in his chest. His Queen was back. She looked at him like a scared little child.

"Who are you? Where am I?" she gasped between breaths. She noticed she was naked and then saw the scar on her chest before she began to whimper.

"What happened?" Daenerys yelled in confusion. Daario gave Kinvara a concerned look as she gave Daenerys a small vial, instantly hushing her and sending her back to sleep.

"What the fuck was that? She doesn't know who I am?" Daario asked.

"No, and she will not… for a time," Kinvara said. "You must protect her. You are her only hope. Her forces in Westeros have nowhere to go… rally them. Fight for her. Let them know not all is lost."

"I will never take her back to that country. But you have my word: I will protect her with everything I have," Daario promised.

* * *

_DRAGONSTONE, PRESENT DAY_

"They are no match against us, they would be smart to surrender," Daario told Daenerys and Jon at his bedside. The wildfire had taken a majority of his arm and kneecap and down on the left side and left him very, very weak. The Maester of Dragonstone administered milk of the poppy to Daario hourly.

"We have Southern armies, plus our own," Jon said. "We will have to meet their troops in the field. Our ships will sail down to Storm's End and march from there."

"What do you think of all this, My Queen?" Daario asked. She smiled sadly at him, her hand stroking his cheek.

"We are taking back what was stolen from us," Daenerys said simply, reiterating Jon from earlier. "We will show our enemies who are the rightful rulers of this country, and show them what happens to those who threaten us." Daario nodded before closing his eyes to rest.

Jon and Daenerys exited the infirmary and stood silently in the dark hallway.

"I know what you're going to say," Daenerys said first, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her face in his furs.

"It's too dangerous," Jon whispered. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"My armies will fight harder if they see their leader in battle," Daenerys said indignantly.

"They will fight hard because they will see their _King_ leading them," Jon reminded her. Daenerys looked up into his eyes, her eyes dark and filled with lust. They stumbled backward into an alcove as she began to unravel his britches without breaking her gaze and knelt down to her knees.

"My King," Daenerys said huskily, suddenly overcome with a terrible need for him.

"Here?" Jon asked, stopping her hands though he could not help his manhood from firming in his pants.

"Here."

* * *

Preparations for the troops in Raven's Landing were well underway as the Lannister forces, Knights of the Vale, and various bannermen congregated to avenge the King. What were once whispers were now confirmed with news of King Bran's murder: The Targaryen Queen was back in Westeros with a bigger vengeance, with rumors of a Wolf King leading her forces into battle. Tyrion felt very nervous as he knew they would stand no chance against Drogon, but his men would fight with every ounce they had to keep the throne. _Right_? Brienne had mentioned that Queen Sansa would be sending her troops down, but how long that would take, he didn't know as there had been no messenger from the North since ravens flew out with news of Bran's death.

"Where the fuck is the North?" Tyrion swore in the War Tent, checking their maps. He wasn't entirely sure how many Second Sons and Dothraki had made it after their wildfire attack, but even without them, the Unsullied still overruled them. He had not heard from Dorne, the Reach, or the Stormlands; surely they wanted to just stay out of it. _Right_? But how much had Daario and Daenerys stayed in contact in the past three years? Tyrion sighed. He must be optimistic. Even in the worst circumstances.

* * *

Daenerys and Jon arrived in Storm's End, exchanging little to no words prior to leaving. At dinner, the first time she had publicly shown herself, she found herself exchanging uneasy glances with her allied Lords of Westeros. Jon slipped his hand into hers underneath the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"My Lords," Jon announced toward the end of the feast. "By the morrow, we will be marching to the enemy to take back the Seven Kingdoms in the name of Queen Daenerys. They do not stand a chance. We have a sizeable host of 30,000 men from four of the Seven Kingdoms and our armies from Essos. By this time tomorrow, we will have a new Queen of Westeros!"

"To the Queen!" one shouted.

"TO THE QUEEN!" Everyone roared, spirits high. Daenerys stood to join Jon and raised her hand to silence the feast.

"Lest not forget our King," Daenerys reminded them, raising a glass of wine to toast Jon, beaming. He gave her a genuine smile as the entire quarters erupted to toast their King.

Later that evening, Daenerys straddled Jon in their chambers and ground her body deliciously slow against him like she would never have him again. Daenerys was different now, he could tell, two of her assassinations leaving her in a crazed state of mind. On one hand, she was a just Queen who wanted to do what was best for her people, but on the other, he could feel her slipping back into her cold, tyrannical ways. He did his best to comfort her, never leave her side, and was terrified of what would happen if the battle went south tomorrow. They could not afford to lose; if they did, he wasn't sure of what kind of chaos she and Drogon would ensue. By how quick they were moving, Jon wasn't sure if the North's forces would make it down in time. Not that he wanted to face them anyway.

"You're everything I ever wanted," Daenerys said, laying her head on his strong chest. He stroked her hair and traced his fingers along her bare back, trying to make the moment last. "My family, my love, my home. We don't have to go to war. We can fly on Drogon back to Essos and spend the rest of our days in hiding. They would never know."

Jon tilted his chin down to look at her. She reminded him of a little doll, with her porcelain skin and platinum blonde hair cascading down her back and spilling over the sides. All of this was feeling strangely like deja vu, like the time he had first rode Rhaegal with her in the North. They landed by a frozen waterfall, and she made a similar request back then, as if imminent death was not approaching Winterfell and his family, and the simple answer was just to run away. But, no, it was real. It was very real. He had committed a serious crime, not only killing a Queen, but a King now, too, all for the good of the Realm. He still felt ashamed that he had let his parentage stop him from becoming the rightful King, her King, as it would have prevented all of this from happening again in the first place.

"I'm so, so sorry Daenerys," Jon began. She hushed him with her lips.

"Don't apologize to your Queen," she sighed, amethyst eyes boring into grey ones. He could look at her forever. She broke the gaze and closed her eyes. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I should have listened to everybody in the first place."

Jon wondered what she meant by that. Was she starting to remember?

"I believe in you. In us. In our family," she continued. "I have faith that we will win this war."

"We've already won, Dany," Jon interrupted her. "They will see our troops and surrender, and the Seven Kingdoms will be yours."

"Oh, how I sure do hope so, my love," Daenerys whispered, falling asleep on his chest.

* * *

Daenerys and Drogon said goodbye to Jon in front of Storm End's castle. Her tears mingled with the salty spray of the sea as she embraced Jon with trembling fingers. She lightly grazed Grey Worm's hand with a knowing glance.

"_Protect the King, Torgo Nudho. For the throne,_" Daenerys said.

"_For the throne,_" Grey Worm repeated as they mounted their horses and left to lead the vanguard. Daenerys climbed onto Drogon's back as he flew to the top of the fortress and the two watched her forces ride out into the West.

She was restless, as she paced the roof while Drogon hunted for fish along Shipbreaker Bay. She had a lady in waiting bring her food and wine but she could find no energy to eat. Oh, how easy it could be to just call Drogon and fly over the battlefield, just once, to see her armies in full glory, with Jon leading the troops. Nightfall came and Drogon came to rest on top of the fortress with his Mother, coiling himself around her tiny body to protect her from harm. She slept under the stars, as she had done when she led what was left of her khalasar so long ago, the sea lulling her to sleep. Instead of dreaming about the Great Grass Sea however, she found herself in the halls of Winterfell, the dead chasing her through its narrow freezing halls. When she stumbled into the Great Hall, a great grey and white direwolf was perched at the head table, calmly assessing the situation. The wolf stalked slowly toward Daenerys before pouncing at her throat. Daenerys woke on top of Storm's End's fortress, the sun ready to break through the sky, clouds tinged with red. They were not back yet.

She left Drogon and descended into the castle, surrounded by her Queensguard who kept post just below the terrace. Once she entered the Great Hall, she found a quivering Samwell Tarly waiting for her.

"Your Grace," he squeaked, nervously glancing at her guards.

"To what do I owe the pleasure to, Maester Tarly?" Daenerys quipped, wondering what he was doing away from Raven's Landing. He held out a very old parchment, with a broken Stark seal on it.

"What's this?" She asked, as a soldier handed her the message.

"Before Robb Stark was murdered at the Red Wedding, he named his successor as King in the North," Sam said. "His successor is Jon Snow."

"Jon's place is by my side, as rightful King of Westeros," Daenerys said, eyebrows knitting in disapproval, handing him back the parchment. "You know he is heir to the Throne."

"Yes, I know, Your Grace," Sam said quickly. "It would mean Lady Sansa is not in control of the Northern armies, Jon is."

"Please get to the point, my Lord," Daenerys said.

"The Northern armies never came," he said. "I imagine it's a bit of a slaughterhouse out there without them."

"They didn't?" Daenerys said in surprise. "Well that's good news for us."

"It's not, Your Grace," Sam said. "Once they defeat the Lannisters, they will march North. The King's Road and northern lands are laced with wildfire. It is not safe for your or your armies."

"Thank you for telling me, Grand Maester," Daenerys said, formulating a plan in her mind. She sat down in the hall to break her fast and managed to get a few bites in when she heard the bleating of a trumpet. Without thinking, she ran outside as her Queensguard scurried after her. Drogon met her at the entrance of the castle as the thundering horses approached closer.

She saw Jon and Grey Worm up front, dirt-ridden and a few fresh cuts through their armor, but unscathed nonetheless. Jon halted in front of her, unable to hide the smile on his face.

"Westeros is yours, Your Grace," Jon said at last, presenting a bound Tyrion Lannister to Daenerys' feet.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I apologize for the delay in getting this posted. Having way too much fun this summer. :) Thanks for all the kind words, and most importantly, thank you so much for reading!

~mtngirlwrites


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX**

Daenerys and Jon led their victorious armies to King's Landing with Drogon circling above.

"Your friend Sam met me at Storm's End. Is it true the North did not appear?" Daenerys asked Jon.

"Aye, it is," he said, casting a nervous glance toward her. "What d'you suppose we do?"

"The North is an independent kingdom and has no obligation to join our wars," Daenerys thought out loud. "We have two options, either take back the North, or leave it..."

"Sansa will not take her brother's death lightly," Jon said.

"I thought you said that that really wasn't Bran," Daenerys interjected. "We will have to arrange a meeting."

"Yes, my Queen," Jon said with a sigh of relief.

"Must we live here," Daenerys muttered as they approached King's Landing. Jon chuckled as he had a similar sentiment. The city was somber as they trotted through the streets.

"Mercy, my Queen!" A villager called out from behind the closed doors.

"Please, my Queen, mercy!" The cries rang through the city as Drogon circled from above and gave a resounding roar. Once they reached the Red Keep, Jon and Daenerys went up the stairs as Tyrion trailed behind them. At the top, Bronn, Brienne, and Davos stood waiting for them.

"Your Grace," Davos said first, kneeling to both of them. Though Brienne did her best to hide her distaste for the whole situation, she and Bronn followed suit in fear they would lose their heads or burn.

Daenerys and Jon strolled toward the Throne Room hand in hand as Drogon perched above the roof and peered at the court. Some screamed and ran out in terror, while others stayed glued to their spot, their faces blank.

At the bottom of the stairs, Jon paused and nodded at Daenerys. He kissed her hand before she ascended to the top step, which had no throne to sit on.

"The fine kingdoms of Westeros," Jon began, pacing toward the crowd. "The King is dead. Your armies are defeated. All in the name of your one true Queen, Daenerys of House Targaryen, First of her Name, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons. Show us your loyalty and kneel to your rightful Queen."

Drogon snarled from above, daring a soul to stand. The court fell to their knees, afraid to be burned on the spot.

"Long may She reign!" Jon shouted.

"Long may She reign," the crowd gasped into the floor.

"My Lords," Daenerys began. "Three hundred years ago, my ancestors unified the great country of Westeros and swore to its people to protect and serve the realm. I am here to continue their legacy.

"I have spent my life in foreign lands, helping their people, no matter how cruel they were to me or mine. I vow to do the same here, as it is my birthright. It's a feeling that cannot get away... It is in my blood and soul to rule the now Six Kingdoms… with my King, King Jon of the House Stark and Targaryen!"

"What about the North, Your Grace?" Bronn asked.

"What of the Hand?" a voice cried out as well. "Traitor! Traitor!"

"The North is an independent kingdom," Jon announced. "So we will await Queen Sansa's decision. Tyrion Lannister's fate is to be determined."

* * *

"Oh, how the tables have turned," Tyrion said solemnly, head propped on his wrists as the King and Queen entered his prison cell.

"Aye, they have, haven't they?" Jon muttered.

"Well, go on then. Get it over with," Tyrion said.

"How many times have you talked your way out of death? A dozen times now?" Daenerys asked him as he raised an eyebrow at her. Tyrion grinned and began to rattle off.

"Well there was that one time with Catelyn Stark... another with her sister —unpleasant woman I tell you— Lysa Arryn, Joffrey-" Tyrion named.

"We get it," Jon said, holding a hand up to stop him. "The problem is they let you talk."

"It is one of my best qualities, Your Grace," Tyrion said defeatedly.

"One of your best to the end unfortunately," Daenerys agreed. "Tomorrow, we will execute you."

"I figured that's why you were paying me the courtesy visit. So how will it be? Beheading? Burned alive? Castration?" Tyrion asked, fingers tapping on his knees.

"Drogon will decide what we do with traitors," Daenerys said before exiting the cell with Jon.

* * *

Tyrion entered the Dragonpit as harsh grey storm clouds brewed above King's Landing. The court was small, with only Jon, Daenerys, Davos, Grey Worm, and the rest of the Queensguard present.

"Lord Tyrion," Daenery began. "You had began to plan my demise from the minute you sought me out in Meereen. You led my allies to be attacked the minute I stepped foot in Westeros, and you betrayed House Targaryen when you spread secrets about my family… the family your father and brother betrayed, resulting in an infant, a baby girl, to grow up in exile. The Beggar Queen, they called me."

"Your Grace, I-" Tyrion began.

"Stop. I did not allow you to speak," Daenerys raised her voice, echoing in the decrepit arena. "Crossing me was your biggest, and last, mistake."

"You and Bran and Sansa… are all the same. Twisting words, stories, to get it to benefit only one person: Yourself," Jon said quietly. "You knew what the truth about me would do to our Queen. You manipulated me to assassinate her, then have me sent to the farthest corner of the country to rot, while you got to sit down here and play King."

"That's not true, Jon, imagine if it had been Arya or Sansa crushed to death because of her-" Tyrion interjected.

"Your brother and sister were evil!" Jon shouted.

"You will address him as Your Grace," Davos reminded Tyrion. Tyrion shook his head defeatedly.

"The hellspawn of Cersei and Jaime killed the greatest man I knew: my father," Jon said bitterly. "They killed my brothers, my mother, good men of the North. All for what? For secrets?"

"I'm not here to defend the dead. She was a danger, and you know it!" Tyrion said, pointing at Daenerys.

"Was I? Or were you to blame for my madness, as the moment you stepped on my council, I only ever lost," Daenerys shot back.

"You were volatile, unstable. You burned thousands of innocent people alive!"

"Cersei was just as bad, if not worse. The only difference was our blood. Robert Baratheon made a mistake by letting me live... He thought he had killed the Last Dragon, but here stand three," Daenerys said coldly as Drogon descended from the storm clouds to rest his talons on the wasted stadium. It began to mist in the Dragonpit, as lighting struck in the distance.

"Tyrion Lannister - you will betray the Realm no more. The end of your House is here," Jon began. "I, Jon, of the House Stark, sentence you to die."

And Drogon pounced forward, ripping a screaming Tyrion into pieces before devouring him whole.

* * *

As Daenerys had guessed, Sansa's armies were waiting just on the other side of the Twins, the southernmost border of the North. Jon met with her to parlay in the fortress.

"We missed you at the battle, Your Grace," Jon began. Sansa grimaced, looking out the window at the thousands who had gathered on both sides.

"The North has lost many due to battles of the South... including your own father and brothers. Have you forgotten or have you suffered the same bout of amnesia like your Queen?" Sansa asked.

"No, no amnesia here, Sansa. Just righting my wrongs. Serving injustice with justice," Jon told her.

"Oh yes... I suppose you're King now. Kinslayer turned Kingslayer. How does that make you feel?" She asked.

"It makes me sleep better at night, knowing that... that thing... is no longer on the throne, and I'm where I'm supposed to be," Jon said. He turned to Davos who held a rolled parchment.

"What's this?"

"A letter from Rob Stark... stating I be King of the North if anything were to happen to him," Jon said as Sansa's face fell.

"That was before we knew of your parentage and you forfeited the North when you swore allegiance to that bitch Queen. Winterfell is mine by right, I'm the last remaining Stark," Sansa said as panic flitted across her face.

"Not the last Stark. Robb left me as his heir... not you," Jon said. "The North is mine, and it will be part of the Seven Kingdoms again."

"Tell that to them, you traitor!" Sansa cried, fleeing the castle with her Queensguard. She ran toward her armies, ready to signal an attack when the men began to scream at what was coming behind her.

Drogon swooped down with Daenerys tiny silhouette barely visible on his back. Sansa looked visibly startled and began to walk backwards as the dragon clambered toward her and surrounded her. She stumbled to the ground and was face to face with Drogon in fear, flames brewing from his snout.

"I do not want to shed any blood today, especially those of the North," Daenerys shouted from his back as Sansa scrambled back to her feet.

"You will never rule the North!" Sansa yelled, trying to keep her dignity strong in front of her people.

"But I will," Jon said, crossing the clearing to stand in front of Drogon. "My dear men: Fight for me and you will never lose your lands or people again. Fight for me, or face the fire!"

The armies knelt in an instant, remembering the dragon's power from King's Landing and Winterfell years ago. Sansa whipped her head back and forth in surprise and began to whimper, tears streaming down her face. It was over.

She gathered her skirts to her sides and fell to her knees as Drogon roared in her face.

"The North is yours, Your Grace."

* * *

Daenerys and Jon took residence in The Twins, a massive, ancient fortress that acted as a toll bridge between the North and South. She moved the council there from King's Landing and appointed Lord Davos to stay in the old capitol as Master of Ships, as someone had to be responsible for the new trade route Daario had established from Essos and her armies since Daario was healing on Dragonstone. Arya was still nowhere to be found but Daenerys kept her court very small and very private to keep out unwanted assassination attempts.

"I lost control," Daenerys admitted one day from on top of the fortress. Jon embraced her from behind and laid his head in the crook of her neck.

"What do you mean?"

"The day I took King's Landing. Drogon may have carried the command, but I was for it. It's my fault just as much as Bran's," She said, tears filling her eyes but her face holding no emotion.

"It's in the past... it's time we do what we do best," Jon said, kissing her cheek in forgiveness. "We rule."

_Fin_

* * *

**Author's Note: I want to thank you all so much for following along and reading! The minute I saw that finale, I began to formulate my own story in my head, unfortunately leaving little room for the readers of this fic to interject. I mostly wrote it for myself and my friends :) That being said, it was time to wrap this up so I can move forward with more stories. I love the world of Game of Thrones and have a few more ideas I'd like to elaborate on (Daenerys growing up as Tywin's ward anyone? Daenerys and Robb love story!?) if you'd like to keep your eye out for that in the future. Again, thanks for letting me exercise my creative muscle and i hope you enjoyed my fic as much I enjoyed writing it! Au revoir.**

**~mtngirlwrites **


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